We can all use a humbling experience once in a while to remind us that best intentions and solid efforts aren’t enough. I woke one morning with a slightly sore throat — not especially bothersome or unusual, in that chronic postnasal discharge irritating my throat is not unusual. The soreness was gone by late morning and I gave it no more thought.

The next morning, I woke with a much sorer throat and more than the usual chronic discharge. Got my attention. I thought it was the beginning of a cold but living in the time of COVID and with a husband who could become very ill if he got COVID, I had to be careful.

Husband said he had no symptoms and neither of us had an elevated temperature. I thought, “This is just a cold,” although it was getting worse with sneezing, nose blowing, some coughing and a sore throat. Besides I needed to follow protocol so I called our health care provider, Jamestown Family Health Clinic, who set me up with an appointment the next day for a test.

I kept my distance from husband. Neither he nor I wanted a cold to complicate his current treatment regimes. Throughout our fifty years together, I had yet to have a cold that I did not share with him.

The next afternoon, I drove into the test area, the nurse came out, swabbed both nostrils, and I went home. I couldn’t imagine I had anything but a cold especially since my husband still had no symptoms. Besides we were vaccinated and boosted. Still, I quarantined to be on the safe side.

Surprise, you’re it!

It wasn’t until early evening the next day that the test results came in. I read SARS-CoV-2, NAAT (COVID-19) Positive! I was shocked and mentally tried to dismiss the result as false.

That didn’t work and my next sense was a terrible fear for my husband. I had not been careful enough to avoid infection.

He was as surprised as I was to hear the test was positive. In fact, anyone who knows me well was surprised. I am known to be especially careful, to limit my outings, to not spend enough time with others to contract the virus and to stay masked outside our home. I hadn’t been to a gathering of friends in months even though I knew them to be vaccinated, then boosted.

The next day, a Jamestown nurse called me and helped me through the process of protecting my husband from me. We had already stopped any closeness and I masked when I delivered eye-drops necessary for a serious eye condition. The nurse advised separate bathrooms which was possible and separate sleeping which was possible but unwanted.

I was relieved to hear “no symptoms” in answer to a question I now asked husband several time a day. I listened for any indication — a wheeze, a cough, a sneeze. The hardest part for both of us was we had to stay separated at a time when we needed each other the most for other reasons as well.

Offers of help came in whenever anyone learned our quarantine status. My tendency to hoard at least one backup for products we use and our stacking of meals in our freezer in case we didn’t feel like fixing dinner carried us through.

The exception was medication pickups and fresh produce that couldn’t be hoarded. Good friends checked in daily and did pickups for us. It was necessary and kind in our odd moment of need.

We will never forget the warm cushion of support surrounding us.

Why not me?

The question remained. How did I contract COVID-19 given the precautions I practice? There was only one possibility.

I was in the pharmacy line to pick up medications necessary for my husband. The line was sluggish; I debated leaving but ended up waiting more than 15 minutes. I wasn’t far back but it seemed everyone had a complication. I had a cart and some space in front of me in front of me but not six feet.

I people-watched and noticed this very tall young man talking animatedly on his cell. His mask was on his beard below his mouth. He had a look of recognition and walked toward the line, stopping at the women in front of me. He caught my eye and made an attempt to pull his mask over his mouth. Then he turned his back, put his arm around the woman and leaned in to talk with her.

The man soon left and the woman turned to call after him. She was not masked and didn’t have one hanging off an ear or around her neck. She and I shared air space for well over 15 minutes. Omicron doesn’t have to be close to spread.

Less than three days later I was symptomatic.

I don’t know why these twenty-somethings shun mask wearing or controlling their voices in pharmacy lines. Perhaps they are ignorant of the danger to others, but my guess is it’s part a sense of invincibility and part pride or willfulness.

It wasn’t about me or my husband; I just happened to be in the line.

We are about to enter a period of easing of precautions, to, as they say, learn to live with an endemic COVID. I am concerned. I don’t think variants are done with us and so much of the world is not vaccinated. And there are still too many people who feel little compulsion to protect the vulnerable with the simplest precautions.

Despite the fact I likely have a super immune status due to the breakthrough infection, I don’t recommend getting COVID. At best it was unsettling; at worst, it was a nightmare of loneliness and fear for my husband.

Bertha Cooper, a featured columnist in the Sequim Gazette, spent her career years in health care administration, program development and consultation and it the author of the award-winning “Women, We’re Only Old Once.” Cooper and her husband have lived in Sequim more than 20 years. Reach her at columnists@sequimgazette.com.